


If You Can't Take the Heat

by henwens



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henwens/pseuds/henwens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abe gets the call to take care of a fire at a small bakery, he does not expect to pull a frantic baker out of the flames. He also does not expect the baker-- Mihashi-- to start bringing treats around the station for him. </p>
<p>And he certainly does not expect to start to like the guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Can't Take the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> I’m seriously crossing the streams here, but I love AUs too much to quit. So here we have Firefighter!Abe and Baker!Mihashi. 
> 
> I’d like to thank Wikipedia and also the YouTube channel Peaceful Cuisine for the inspiration for Mihashi’s baked goods, as I have very little imagination when it comes to food. Also, I know so very little about firefighting, particularly in Japan, so please excuse any small errors that may pop up! Research can only go so far, unfortunately!
> 
> Title is like... "if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen" because I am actively the Worst. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please enjoy!

“Suit up,” Hanai’s commanding voice thundered through the station. “Our unit is responding to a call in the neighborhood; no structural damage reported yet, but they may need us for search and rescue—”

Hanai, Abe’s Station Commander, and essentially the captain of their small unit, was almost to the trucks while Abe was still slipping into his suit. He rolled his eyes, contemplating how much Hanai was trying to prove to their team when they would already follow him anywhere—they would have to show it to him soon. He tried to ignore the thundering excitement in his heart as he stepped into the truck, wondering what awaited them just down the street.

He didn’t have to wonder for very long, as they rounded a few corners and pulled up to a series of storefronts. The windows of a small bakery in the middle looked smoky, but the thick black tendrils hadn’t escaped the confines of the building yet—Abe understood why they had been called, though, as a fire in one of these buildings could easily affect the whole block.

They unpacked their gear quickly, Suyama assisting Abe with the battering ram that he prayed they wouldn’t need. Hanai had said something about search and rescue, which meant there could be people trapped inside—it made his skin crawl. The fire was in its early stages and they had clearly gotten here in time to assist anyone inside to safety, but Abe knew how unpredictable this job could be.

“Abe,” Hanai called, unloading the chemical dispensers they would be using today. If this had started from a grease fire, they would want to put off on using water for as long as possible. “Please head inside to check for occupants. Head back to Suyama only if the door is jammed.”

Abe nodded his compliance, put on his helmet and mask. The door handle wasn’t very hot to the touch, but wearing his gloves it was always kind of hard to tell.

He pushed the door open steadily; it hadn’t even been locked. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing his team would follow shortly behind him and wouldn’t encounter any obstacles.

There was no one in the opening of the storefront, a café-style layout that looked like it hadn’t been touched at all this morning. The air in front of Abe was dense and hazy as he contemplated how this fire may have started— perhaps the bakery preparing something for the morning rush?

He hurried to the back of the store, scanning for signs of life, and flung open the door to the kitchen. He was met with an appalling sight.

A young man, low to the ground, was frantically piling washcloths into his oven, trying to smother the small flames licking up from the sides. He had another hand over his face but still looked like he was breathing fine, though a little raspy—had he come back into the kitchen, then, trying to save the oven? Abe felt annoyance flair up deep in his chest.

“Hey!” He shouted, and the young man startled, the towel he had been waving frantically catching a stray flame and going up quickly, the fire travelling quickly to the man’s arm. Abe sprinted forward and knocked it away, grasping at the man’s arms.

“Hold on,” he gritted out, still irrationally upset with this guy. The other man was nodding at a frightening speed, looking up at Abe with something akin to wonder in his eyes. Abe’s heart sped up as they hurried toward the exit—he was going to have words with this guy later.

The man coughed as they hurried out into the fresh air, Abe’s team replacing them inside, armed with everything they would need to fight the small fire. Better than damp washcloths and bone-dry towels, Abe thought, gritting his teeth once more.

He saw that an ambulance had arrived and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, as the man’s coughing had still not subsided. He steered the man over and was even more relieved when he saw Izumi and Nishihiro pile out of the vehicle, running over to assist him. They would do good work with the guy.

With one last look, he catalogued the guy’s shaky smile as he answered Izumi’s questions, and accepted the oxygen mask from Nishihiro. “Mihashi,” was the answer when Izumi asked what they should call him as they treated him. _Mihashi_ , Abe thought, the name tugging at his heart. Annoying.

Abe ran back to the storefront to assist his team, but found they had already put out the fire in the oven in the time that he had been gone. Sakaeguchi was opening up some windows to air out the front area. He waved to Abe as he saw him approach.

“Great job getting that guy out,” he said. “Crazy that he was still in there.”

Abe scoffed. “That guy? No way was he in there the whole time. I think—I think he went back in.”

Sakaeguchi laughed, a little tonelessly. “That would be crazy! He’d have to be really attached to this place to risk his life for it, even against that small fire.”

“You’re telling me,” Abe said, biting his lip.

“Abe,” another voice called. Abe turned and saw Mizutani approaching. “Did you happen to catch that guy’s name? There’s a crowd gathered round and they’re asking about someone named ‘Mihashi’.”

Abe nodded. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Wait, Mihashi?” Sakaeguchi said. “That was the guy who placed the call! He really did go back in…” Sakaeguchi leaned a little, as though he could see the man in the ambulance from here. “Crazy.”

Abe felt a chill in his spine. He assisted with some of the clean up, but their job was really over for now. As he packed the last of their gear into the truck, he looked over to where Izumi and Nishihiro—and this Mihashi guy—were. It looked like they were wrapping up as well.

Hanai was talking to the crowd that had gathered round, and Abe figured he had a few minutes while Hanai no doubt launched into a fire safety lecture with them. He shuffled over to the ambulance and compiled his own fire safety talk.

“Hey,” he said. Izumi and Nishihiro turned and greeted him, and the man in the back of the truck bristled. His hair was impossibly frizzy, though it looked so natural on him Abe wondered if it wasn’t always like that. A blanket had been draped over his shoulders and his right arm was wrapped in crisp white bandages, but the oxygen mask was gone.

“H-H-Hi,” the guy—Mihashi—said, only a slight hint of a wheeze. Abe felt something like relief curl in his chest.

“Mihashi was just telling us how ‘fine’ he is,” Izumi snickered, patting Mihashi lightly on the back. “And surprisingly, he’s not far off. He’s got some topical burns on his hand and the skin on his arm was a little irritated, so we treated and bandaged it, but other than that he’s been cleared.”

Abe narrowed his eyes, and thought he heard Mihashi squeak. “What about the smoke?”

“He definitely inhaled some,” Nishihiro took over, “but his lungs are young and healthy. Within a few hours of breathing clean air, he should be fine. He also told us he stuck low enough to the ground that he avoided the thickest parts of smoke.”

Abe scoffed. “He had his head right near the oven! What was the big idea after all, huh, heading back in there? I know you placed the call and told our dispatcher you’d gotten out, so why’d you go back in?”

Izumi whistled obnoxiously. “Ballsy.”

“I-I-I—” Mihashi looked startled. “I just wanted to help!”

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Abe glowered.

“I’m fine, really!” The baker said, swinging his arms wildly to demonstrate how the burns hadn’t hurt him. Abe couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I don’t even need to go to the hospital!”

“Idiot,” he said. “Do you know how dangerous smoke inhalation is? You don’t even know it’s happening, but the fire eats up all the oxygen in the room and suddenly you can’t breathe! Not to mention the irritants the smoke pumps into your lungs! And you’re not even going to get treatment in the hospital?”

Another squeak from Mihashi, and Abe saw how red his face was, embarrassment, guilt, or nerves flashing in his wide and wild eyes. Abe felt the breath knocked out of him.

Izumi placed a hand on Abe’s shoulder, calming his tirade. “Go easy on the guy,” he said. “It would only be a precaution. He can say no if he wants to.” He and Nishihiro had finally finished packing the van and were heading for the front. “See you around, Mihashi,” Nishihiro said with a grin.

The baker still looked flushed and jittery, and it put Abe on edge, but he offered a shaky smile to Izumi and Nishihiro as they settled into their van. Mihashi stepped forward just before they pulled away, and had to catch himself as he swayed forward unsteadily.

“Watch it!” Abe cried, reaching forward instinctively, but Mihashi had already righted himself. He looked at Abe’s outstretched hand with wide eyes, quivering brightly, and he blushed a bright red.

Abe scoffed.

Mihashi just looked spazzy. Paired with the image of the burning rags in his hands, it didn’t take much to figure out the only person who could have caused the fire.  Abe bit the inside of his lip, disappointment running through him. Of all the stupid ways to start a fire, and there were plenty of ones, tripping around your own kitchen with a burning rag was at the new top of Abe’s list.

Suddenly, a short, darker man stepped away from the crowd, running forward and embracing the baker. He patted him on the shoulder in soothing motions.

“Mihashi!” He was saying. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault! I forgot I’d drizzled vanilla extract over the muffins, and some of it must have gotten on the pan, and then I went to take out the trash, and got locked out…”

The man rambled on at Mihashi, but for once he looked unfazed.

“I-It’s okay, Tajima,” Mihashi said, smile warming his face. “We all make mistakes. It won’t cost us too much… I-I hope.” Mihashi’s smile flickered and Abe felt his heart seize.

This guy, Tajima, wailed in frustration and suddenly turned to Abe, a fierce look in his eye. “You took care of it, right?”

Abe bristled at his tone. He was the one who should be scolding this Tajima for being so stupid, putting lives in danger, not be scolded in turn.

“Sure I did. You’ve got some major damage to the oven and the wall behind it, that’s where we had to focus our efforts. I’m no expert on insurance, you’d have to talk to my Captain for that.” He gestured to Hanai, wanting this small angry man out of his sight. He wanted to make sure Mihashi was good for real—no way it was healthy to still be that red, and stuttering. Was Mihashi going into shock?

Tajima leveled a stink-eye at him. “What’s your name?”

 “Abe Takaya,” Abe said. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mihashi jump. Weird.

“Listen,” he said to Mihashi once Tajima had made his way over to Hanai, startling the other man out of his conversation. “You’ll go to the hospital if you feel poorly, right? What you did was really scary, and there are more important things than some building—”

Mihashi had turned from him and was looking at the bakery, and for the first time Abe noticed the sign—The Real Ace. Curious. He felt heat on his face when Mihashi turned back to him.

“Thanks—A-A-Abe. I didn’t mean to scare anyone, honestly.” Mihashi looked hesitant, so red and shaky that Abe worried he might pass out, but Mihashi’s next words were resolute. “It is important, though.”

As Abe took his leave of Mihashi, he couldn’t help but believe the guy was on to something after all.

\---

Abe went home that night a little tense still, preoccupied with thoughts of Mihashi. How could that guy risk his life over an oven? The annoyance was still bubbling in his chest.

If he was being honest with himself— which he didn’t need to be, of course—there was something more that pulled him back to thoughts of Mihashi. That face framed by that hair, face flush and lips curved awkwardly around that sweet voice—Abe groaned. It was all _very_ annoying. Something kept tugging at him, some distant thought—

Abe was tired the next morning, staying up too late and waking up too early for his shift. He moved like a zombie into the small station kitchen, hoping that Suyama or Sakaeguchi had been thoughtful enough to leave him some coffee. His heart thrilled happily in his chest when he saw that the pot was still half full.

He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee thoughtfully, and looked out through the open window that surveyed the garage. Oki was hosing down their truck, lips pursed like he was whistling some kind of tune. In the background, Abe thought he heard Hanai’s low and commanding voice, and he wondered who he was talking to.

He was just about to down the coffee and head out to help Oki clean up when Sakaeguchi rounded the corner, greeting him happily.

“Ah, Abe,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face. “You might want to head out front. Mizutani says someone is here to see you.”

Abe’s mind went blank when he thought of who could be here to see him, especially so early in the morning. He wondered when the last time he talked to Shun was, but quickly put the thought out of his head. Shun might be energetic, but certainly not energetic enough to roll out of bed and head to the station when he could easily pick up a phone to bug his older brother Takaya.

When Abe rounded the corner, his mind buzzed excitedly to life again. Standing with Mizutani at the dispatch desk was Mihashi, arms laden with several white pastry boxes. He looked—good, Abe had to say. Except for the bandage that was still on his arm, he looked well-rested and healthy. Abe was glad for that.

As Mihashi answered one of Mizutani’s questions, his arm jostled excitedly, and the boxes tipped dangerously, careening towards the floor. Abe’s feet kicked into action well before his head did and he caught them gracefully.

Mizutani chuckled at the scene as Mihashi flushed a brilliant red, stuttering out, “A-A-A-Abe—”

“Careful,” was all Abe could think to say, heaving a sigh. “You’re kind of a klutz, aren’t you?”

Mizutani raised an eyebrow at that, but Mihashi’s embarrassed face flickered up into a smile, and he ducked his head low. “I- I wanted to come see Abe and give him these,” he said, gesturing to the boxes. “Abe and his team— as thanks!”

Abe nodded, figuring as much. They sometimes got treats from locals that they had helped out, particularly the ones that felt embarrassed about needing their assistance. Somehow, though, that didn’t seem to be Mihashi’s case—he seemed to genuinely want to do something for Abe and the team, out of the goodness of his heart.

Abe’s own heart fluttered—stupidly—as he lifted up a corner of the top box and peered inside. The sweets looked fairly Western—Abe recognized one of the pastries as an éclair—and something smelled heavenly. He felt his cheeks warm when Mizutani let out a joyous laugh and began to call to the others.

Suddenly, Abe’s team had gathered around the desk and were jostling each other, calling out what they wanted. Someone had decided that Abe got first pick, and Abe felt Mihashi watching him excitedly as he chose a sweet roll, _anpan_ , hoping for something with a more savory filling. He never was one for sweets.

He fell back as the others shuffled past him, crowing at the carefully packed éclairs, danishes, sweet rolls, and even _taiyaki_. It was obvious that they were used to their protein-filled breakfasts, and were inordinately excited about the chance for something new and sweet.

Abe shared a look with Mihashi, whose eyes were sparkling as he watched the scene unfold. He brought the _anpan_ to his mouth and bit into it, the red bean paste an enjoyable if comfortable taste. While he didn’t enjoy sweets, he really did love this flavor—although, as he chewed carefully, Abe realized there was something slightly different about the reliable red bean paste. Something nutty to it—he couldn’t quite place it, but it was a new and enjoyable pairing. Abe was surprised to find that he liked it so much.

As he almost loses himself in his next bite, a thought occurs to him. He swallows and studies Mihashi carefully, the question on the tip of his tongue.

“Your oven?” Abe finally asks. Mihashi shakes his head, a glimmer of sadness flashing against his awkward smile.

“I made these at home!” He says excitedly—and too loudly, for this time in the morning. Abe winces, and Mihashi freezes. “A-Are they n-n-not good?”

“No,” Abe says quickly. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah!” Sakaeguchi says, picking up his second—third?—éclair. “Really amazing. Where did you learn how to do this?”

A good question, Abe thought. He hadn’t really thought about Mihashi in the capacity of being a baker before now—hadn’t given any thought to the fact that the guy might have some talent outside of stupid acts of bravery. Abe knew nothing about food except that he needed to eat to live, but even he could recognize this was something special.

In answer to Sakaeguchi’s question, Mihashi just shrugged, twining his fingers against the hem of his shirt.

“Seriously,” Suyama said. “Did you go to school for this? That’s really cool, if you did.”

“A-Actually,” Mihashi said, “I learned on my own.”

Stunned silence. Mizutani cracked a grin. “That’s way cooler!”

Abe had to agree. He was just about to reach for another treat when the dispatch desk’s computer started to blare the alarm, and Mizutani swore and picked up the call from Emergency Services.

The others started to dawdle in the direction of the suits, knowing they’d have to be ready when Mizutani relayed the information to Hanai. Abe looked to Mihashi, who had clearly been startled by the alarm and was now flapping his mouth unattractively. Abe felt the annoyance blare in his chest again.

“Listen,” he said. “Thanks for this, but you should probably head back now. We have work to do here.”

Mihashi nodded slowly, and when Abe moved to give him back the boxes, he shook it rapidly.

“For you,” he said, turning to the door. “Th-Thanks again!”

Abe couldn’t help but watch until Mihashi was safely out the door, before sprinting to put on his gear before Hanai could spot him.

\---

“Hey, look,” Hanai said, tossing the morning paper down next to Abe, who was hunkered in the break room attempting to catch up on some sleep. A week had passed since he’d last seen Mihashi, scurrying out the doors of the station, and still that guy was on his mind. Something was definitely wrong.

“What is it?” Abe said gruffly, peering down at the front page. His eyes fluttered open in surprise the next moment, however, when he saw that the local paper had done a write up on Mihashi and his bakery, The Real Ace. They’d included a picture—Mihashi, center frame, smiling brightly in the door of his storefront. It seemed to be recent, but his bandage was gone, so Abe couldn’t be sure.

“Fiery ‘Pastry Ace’ Reopens His Doors,” Abe reads the headline with a scoff. “‘Mihashi Ren is a master of international and traditional pastries, and after a week of closing due to a disastrous but non-fatal fire, he is reopening his doors to the public this Saturday. An event—‘”

Abe hesitated. Hanai raised an eyebrow. “‘An event not to be missed,’” he finishes. “The team and I will be paying him a visit on opening day, if you’re interested.”

Abe studied Hanai carefully for some kind of ulterior motive. “I’ll be busy that day,” he said finally, ignoring the heat on his face. He was telling the truth, after all—Shun had a game that afternoon and would no doubt want to spend the morning practicing with Abe.

“Suit yourself,” Hanai said, exiting the break room with a too-knowing smile on his face. Abe’s stomach fluttered nervously as he breathed out a huff of annoyance. 

Abe did spend that morning with Shun, and the afternoon at the game, and the evening with his parents, who carefully questioned him on his work life, home life, and (nonexistent) dating life. He knew they fretted about him when he was at work, but he had made a promise to them long ago that he’d keep himself safe. He’d been doing a good job of it so far.

The next morning he had the early shift, and as he went to bed that night he let his thoughts drift, his mouth watering as he thought about that brief taste of heaven he’d had last week and what he might have missed out on today. Golden eyes flashed across his mind as he closed his own for the night, but they were forgotten by the morning.

Abe didn’t feel terrible getting out of bed the next morning, and even drifted into work with a smile on his lips and a greeting for his team. They snickered at his good mood when, suddenly, Hanai walked in on the scene and said, “Oh? He got his present then?”

The room fell silent before Mizutani let out an uproarious laugh, and the others followed suit quickly. Abe felt his chest tighten with frustration.

“What?” He said. Sakaeguchi took pity on him and reached into the kitchen to grab a pastry box. It wasn’t white this time, more of a cotton candy blue, and wrapped with a curled blue ribbon. Abe looked at it distastefully—it looked like a baby shower present.

“What is this?” He said, taking it as thought it possessed a bomb that could explode at any moment. Sakaeguchi rolled his eyes.

“It’s from Mihashi,” he said. “He asked us to give it to you.”

Abe felt his features soften, much to his annoyance. He turned away from his team and took the package back into the kitchen, glaring at them through the window until Hanai barked at them to return to work. Once he was away from prying eyes, Abe ran his hand across the curled ribbon and pulled.

The pastry box unfolded almost magically and revealed a softly decorated, pastel cake. Abe would have thought it unsightly if he hadn’t already connected the gift with Mihashi, and the thought of the other man taking the time to make it made him feel warm and comforted. Trying not to dwell on these feelings, Abe surveyed the sugar flowers and soft white piping that decorated the small cake. As his eyes scanned it they also picked up on a small card tucked to the side.

_Dear Abe_ , it read, _The Real Ace wishes to gift you with this cake to thank you for your service to the business!_

The card was printed and seemed cold and official, and Abe tried not to feel disappointed as he dug a fork out from one of the drawers and shifted his interest to the cake. The plastic fork slid neatly past the sugar flowers and into the white dough of the cake, sticking thoroughly into some kind of filling. Abe pulled until he had a nice, even bite on the fork and brought it to his lips.

Another surprise here—the cake tasted like vanilla, but what he had mistaken for a frosting filling was actually white bean paste, thick and delicious in contrast to the spongy sweetness of the cake. Abe hummed in delight and went back for another bite when his eyes caught on something—the card he had tossed aside. Scrawled on the back, in messy and excited writing, was this:

_Sorry we missed each other, Abe! Was hoping to give this to you in person. Please come by any time, we’d love to have you!_

And then,

_Stay safe – Mihashi_

Abe bit down on the inside of his cheek, stifling a laugh of pure enjoyment.

\---

It took a few days, but Abe finally found the time to head over to The Real Ace early on Thursday morning. He took a small detour off his usual walk from his apartment to the station, hurrying to the crowded block where Mihashi’s bakery resided.

He was fascinated to see when he arrived that the busy storefronts he usually tried to avoid seemed to be busy because of one store in particular—Mihashi’s. Although he dreaded the sight of the line that stretched out the doorway, he took his place at the back.

Abe soon realized he didn’t need to worry about being late for his shift at all, though, as the line moved surprisingly quickly. As he found himself nearing the counter, he began to survey his surroundings. His heart stuttered as he realized the last time he was here, he was peering through smoke.

The décor was homey, and the space seemed larger—though still not large enough to accommodate all the people who wanted to be here, Abe thought, as he saw groups of teenagers in their school uniforms huddled around the walls of the bakery, catching up on their breakfast and gossip before school. Business men and women, as well, shifted from leg to leg as they sipped coffee and bit into matcha muffins.

The counter was manned by a young woman and a young man—Abe’s mind flashed with recognition. If he remembered correctly, this was Tajima—

The man looked up at him as Abe stepped forward, as it was his turn to be served, and smiled widely. “Hello!” He shouted.

“Hi,” Abe said, embarrassed when it seemed to come out a little coldly. He had been expecting Mihashi, but the baker was nowhere in sight. “Uh—”

“Oh!” Tajima said suddenly, with a laugh. “Wait a minute, I know you! You’re that fireguy—”

“Firefighter—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tajima’s expression showed that he was wildly entertained. “Shinooka,” he called to the woman. “Tell Mihashi that uh— what’s your name?—Abe! Abe is here!”

There was a clatter of pans from the direction of the kitchen—Abe tilted his head although he knew he wouldn’t be able to see through. The woman—Shinooka—chuckled politely.

“I think he knows, Tajima,” she said. Abe had to agree—Tajima could stand to learn some serious volume control. She looked at Abe. “It’s very nice to meet the man who helped us so much! Mihashi would love to see you, if you wanted to go right through those doors—”

Abe nodded and his heart began to pound. He pushed the feeling down and stepped around the counter, pushing open the doors to the kitchen.

Mihashi had his back to him, was picking a sheet pan off the ground with one hand and dusting the flour off his other hand on a towel hanging from his back pocket. Abe cleared his throat and the other man bristled, spun around on his heel, face a brilliant crimson.

“A-Abe!” Mihashi said excitedly. “What are you doing here?”

“They told me to come back here,” he said dumbly, gesturing to where he had just come from. Mihashi’s mouth wobbled up into a smile, and he let out a rush of air that Abe thought might be a laugh. It occurred to him that Mihashi had been asking why he’d come to the bakery in the first place.

“I-I see that,” Mihashi said. “Can I… get you something?”

The counters were piled with muffins, old fashioned doughnuts, brightly folded sweet buns, and all kinds of delicious treats. Abe felt lost and looked back to Mihashi. “I’m okay.”

Mihashi’s lips tightened, but the smile remained. “W-Would you like to give me a hand with the bread, then?”

Abe looked around wildly and noticed for the first time that they were the only two back here—which meant that Mihashi must typically handle all the baking by himself. He thought back to the line out front and wondered how much work he must get done in a day.

Mihashi was watching him nervously as Abe stepped closer. As if he had read his mind, he said, “I like to do all the baking myself, still. Tajima and Shinooka, y-you must have just met her, they want me to hire someone else. T-Tajima helps me sometimes, but—”

Well, Abe knew how that had turned out. He watched Mihashi carefully as the other man folded the bread in on itself, took another mound of dough, and folded that one as well. Mihashi rolled the two out, connected them at one end, and began to braid.

“—like this,” Mihashi was telling him, and Abe found that he’d been completely engrossed in his handiwork and not his words. Mihashi finished the braid and turned to look up at Abe, and Abe suddenly realized how closely they were standing.

Mihashi’s lips quivered as though he were about to say something, and Abe took a deep breath.

“Mihashi—” he started, and the other man’s breath stuttered. “I came here to ask—could I take you out sometime? To coffee?”

Mihashi’s face lit up like a candle, and Abe stretched out a hand to place on his elbow, steadying him. Mihashi laughed shakily and nodded. “I-I-I’d like that, A-Abe.”

Abe’s heart swelled and he nodded, feeling only marginally awkward. He _had_ come here with the intention of asking Mihashi out, wanting to get to know the other man more, but he still felt unsure of his own feelings. Was he being too forward?

“O-Oh!” Mihashi said suddenly, breaking away from Abe. Abe’s hand went cold as Mihashi’s warmth left it, and he flexed it unconsciously. Mihashi bustled around the kitchen, pulling a tray of cookies out from the oven and setting them out to cool. In went another tray, and Abe was suddenly aware that he was interrupting Mihashi’s work for his own personal gain. He flushed with embarrassment.

“Mihashi,” he said, and the other man still startled, as though he’d forgotten Abe was there. He hurriedly packed a few cookies into a box, took a card from a stack on a shelf above his counterspace, and scrawled something on the back. Abe watched him intently, and startled Mihashi again when the man turned to find him studying him so carefully.

“Earl Grey cookies. For A-Abe,” Mihashi said, looking anywhere but at his face and handing Abe the newly packaged box of cookies. Abe sighed and felt that warm trickle of annoyance in his chest, mixed with something newer still. “S-See you soon?”

“Yeah,” Abe said warmly, waving to Mihashi as he left the kitchen. Before he was out the door he inhaled once more the heavenly smell of a baker hard at work.

As he ordered a coffee from Tajima on the way out, feeling guilty for taking up the establishment’s time without giving them something in return, he studied the box carefully. It was a pastel green this time, wrapped in a lime green ribbon. Abe almost shook his head in disbelief. He was fond of Mihashi and the little bakery he’d built for himself, but the color scheme of the place was just weird.

Tucked behind the ribbon, though, was the card that Mihashi had placed there. As Abe collected his coffee from a grinning Tajima, he noticed that it was a business card for the storefront, with their number. Scrawled below that, though, in neon pink ink, was a number that was labeled, “Personal.”

Abe’s walk to work had never been as bright and warm as this one.

\---

They’d agreed to meet at a local coffee shop at noon that Sunday, and as it was just around the corner from Abe’s apartment, he arrived first. It had only been a few days since he’d last seen Mihashi, but Abe found that his heart was beating excitedly at the prospect of seeing him again and, this time, getting to know the guy more. He shifted a little to look over his shoulder when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

Mihashi looked great. He was wearing a crisp white button down that accentuated his thin form and brought out his hazel-gold eyes. Abe tried not to fidget nervously—he’d worn a button down as well, but it was rather old because he didn’t have the time to go shopping so often anymore. As Mihashi approached, Abe noticed that his cheeks were tinged with a dark flush, but he wasn’t jumping out of his skin anymore so Abe took that as a good sign.

“Hey,” he said. Mihashi simply nodded, his mouth turning up in the awkward grin once more. Abe wanted to melt.

Abe held the door open for Mihashi and they ordered their drinks separately, and as they waited Abe noticed that Mihashi was looking around nervously for a place to sit. He chuckled and rested a hand on Mihashi’s elbow again, feeling flush when the other man barely jumped at the contact.

“C’mon,” he said, once their drinks were in hand, and maneuvered Mihashi over to a cozy corner. He tried to act casually as Mihashi smiled and told him it was “p-p-perfect!”—little did Mihashi know that Abe had scouted this place out before and asked the staff to make sure the table was clear when they came in. He was friendly with the owner here, and he was sure that Momoe, who had a soft spot for him, and a slightly frightening demeanor to strangers, would help him out this once.

They settled down and got the sandwiches they had ordered as well rather quickly. Mihashi bit into his excitedly and moaned.

“Delicious!” He said, his mouth curving into that beautiful, awkward grin before he took another bite.

Abe felt a little warm, but he laughed good naturedly and took a bite of his own.

“You really like food, then?” He asked, struggling to start the conversation. He bit his lip and groaned inwardly, feeling like he had failed.

Mihashi ran with it though, nodding. “I really do! I can cook well enough, but baking is my favorite thing!”

“And you’re good at it, too,” Abe said, going for a compliment.

 “I-I’m not that good,” Mihashi blushed. “I t-think I would be better if I went to an institute, or s-something like that…” Mihashi trailed off, eyes fluttering at Abe nervously.

“How did you get into baking anyway?”

Mihashi was studying Abe, a tight smile on his lips. They were silent for a few moments, Mihashi’s low breathing filling the air between them. Finally, he flicked his golden eyes away from Abe, and Abe let out a breath.

“A-A-Abe doesn’t remember,” Mihashi said in a low voice, swinging his head down to his chest.

“Remember?” Abe said, suddenly lost. “Remember what?”

“When we were younger,” Mihashi said, as though that explained something. “W-W-We used to p-play together,” Mihashi continued. “B-Baseball.”

_Baseball?_ He’d played in high school, but would remember Mihashi from then. The only other time he’d played was—

Abe’s heart stutters with the realization. “Ren,” he says, with understanding and Mihashi glows a brilliant red.

It had been so long ago—of course he hadn’t remembered Mihashi, hadn’t even recognized him. They were young kids in the same neighborhood, still in primary school, and Abe had coached the hesitant Mihashi through the motions of the game. They’d been a good match—and then Mihashi (Ren, as he’d childishly called him back then) had left him.

Abe’s laugh was breathless as he thought about how they’d managed to find each other again. “Where did you go?”

Mihashi’s expression grew dark. “I moved to my grandfather’s school for junior high… M-Mihoshi Academy.”

“Did you play there, too?”

“I did… but it didn’t work out. I made pitcher on the team, and was the ace, but everyone claimed it was n-nepotism. When I refused to get off the mound, they had to force me off through bullying.”

“That’s awful,” Abe said, reaching across the table. Mihashi’s hand was there suddenly, warm in his grasp. They both blushed. “And that was the end of baseball?”

Mihashi nodded. “B-But it wasn’t all bad. I started to bake at home since I didn’t feel like practicing my pitching, and I learned a lot from my family and even got to take some classes through school!”

“And now here you are,” Abe said, nodding as if that explained something. Perhaps it did—if Mihashi had been bullied out of something he loved once, perhaps he was nervous it would happen again. Was that why he’d placed so much stock in his bakery? Why he’d gone back to save the oven?

“W-What about Abe?” Mihashi shifted the conversation with a soft look.

“Well, I played in high school, but left because of an injury—”

“A-An injury?” Mihashi startled. Abe realized he was still holding the other man’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, more like the threat of one. I didn’t want to do any more damage to my body than I’d already done, so I didn’t play in college. I was studying sports medicine, and I started volunteering for Emergency Services, and met Izumi. You remember him?” A nod. “I thought I wanted to do that with him for good, but then I started volunteering for the local fire department too, and found I liked it there a lot more.”

Mihashi was fidgeting, putting Abe’s nerves on edge. He already hated talking about himself, and he gritted his teeth, worrying that Mihashi was judging him somehow. “What is it?”

“You said you didn’t want an i-injury, but you—” Mihashi trailed off, looking wracked for nerves.

Abe leaned back in his seat and hummed thoughtfully. “I’d never really thought about it. Obviously getting hurt fighting fires is much different from getting hurt in baseball. But it just seems more—avoidable.”

He steadied Mihashi, stroking a thumb across the back of his hand. “I don’t get hurt, because I know I always need to come back to those I care about.”

Mihashi flushed a brilliant red, but his voice was so steady it almost took Abe aback. “You’d come back to me?”

Abe’s heart stuttered. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

\---

A few days later, Abe got a text from Mihashi asking him out to dinner. Abe ignored the nerves that battled within him and quickly negotiated a date and time with him.

Weeks passed, and the two grew closer, inching their way into each other’s lives. Abe found that his walk to work now included the roundabout detour to Mihashi’s bakery, and often he would find boxes of treats waiting for him when he arrived at the station, hand delivered by Tajima or Shinooka (both of whom had wormed their way into the stations’ collective heart, the latter into Mizutani’s specifically).

His team loved Mihashi, to an almost embarrassing extent, and even Izumi and Nishihiro were getting in on the action, as Abe found out that they’d asked Mihashi to drinks one night after work.

The worst of it was when Mihashi dropped by the station to pick Abe up from work, and they greeted each other with a simple peck on the lips, Abe too overwhelmed with excitement at seeing Mihashi again to delay the act. Though he tried to hide it from the team, there was always someone who slipped through his defenses and whooped loudly, drawing the attention of the others. They almost always left the station to whistling and collective cheering, Abe growling darkly in frustration and a red Mihashi chuckling sweetly.

There were some difficulties. They both worked long hours; Abe felt guilty about visiting Mihashi too much at work, and Mihashi frequently voiced his concerns when Abe would tell him about the action the station saw that day. Abe always promised him that he didn’t have to worry, and with a soft kiss Mihashi’s concerns were usually silenced.

Until, one day, it all came down around Abe—suddenly, and cruelly.

The call was one like any other, if a little outside their usual area. It was from an apartment building, still under construction, so no lives were in danger except their own. They had to contain the fire quickly, though, as it was a crowded area and the other buildings loomed close.

Abe’s team worked with another to push the fire in, which turned out to be the wrong course of action—something was burning fast in the middle, and they’d need to send someone in to take care of it from there.

Abe looked to see Hanai suiting up, but grabbed his arm.

“Captain,” he said. “Let me.”

Hanai hesitated, and in that moment Abe took the mask from him. With Suyama’s help he leveled the hose against his waist, and Sakaeguchi fed it through to him as he maneuvered his way into the building.

“Careful, Abe,” Hanai called, before turning back to organize the team for secondary relief. Once Abe took care of the central mass they could eliminate the fires that were still popping up around the edges.

The smoke was dense and dark, but luckily the building was unfinished enough that, although the core was there, the spacing was quite open. Abe found his way to the room inside that continued to burn despite their best efforts, and with a tug on the hose he signaled for Sakaeguchi and Suyama to switch on the water. He settled himself in for the recoil, aimed, and felt the water surge forward. Soon, the flames in front of him began to die.

“Alright,” he said, and yanked once more to signal for the water to stop. As he moved his hand, the hose slipped from his grasp, and the nozzle flipped forward into his face. It cracked his mask with a deafening noise, and Abe sputtered as heavy smoke filled the void.

He tore the mask off completely, knowing that it was only forcing him to breathe in the fumes. He flung the hose away and held the thick cloth of his uniform’s sleeve to his mouth and nose, hoping that it would stifle the worst of the smoke. He turned for the doorway but realized that, not only had his breathing gone with the mask, but his vision had too. The smoke was much thicker than he remembered, and it stung his eyes so that he could barely keep them open.

He began to rush forward quickly, trying not to let panic grip his heart. Blinded and breath stifled, he thought he heard his team calling to him from the darkness, and tried to follow their voices.

He thought they were growing louder, beckoning him to safety, when suddenly his foot caught on a stray piece of rubble and he tripped.

Abe slammed into the ground, gasping loudly in surprise and pain, gagging as the smoke filled his lungs and burned his throat.

The blood rushed to his head and, almost mercifully, he slipped into unconsciousness. His last thought was Mihashi, laughing and looking at him with wonder, and of a promise that would be broken.

\---

“Abe,” a hand on his arm, shaking him awake. He struggled to breathe in and was amazed to feel cool, fresh air pushing into his lungs. His eyes fluttered open and he saw his team, gathered around his bed.

His bed… a hospital bed, his mind clarified, as his senses focused on the bright lights, the dull beeping in the background, and the doctor standing next to him. His breathing stuttered, and the reassuring grip on his arm tightened. His mind flooded with _Mihashi_ , but when he looked over, he found Sakaeguchi there, smiling sullenly.

“Mr. Abe,” the doctor cleared his throat. “Your team has been very worried, despite the luck of your state. They were able to get you out of the building quickly and effortlessly, and even with your head wound and the amount of smoke you inhaled, you’ve managed to make it out without a concussion or any burns. A few days in the hospital with plenty of oxygen, and you’ll be good to go.”

Abe’s mind raced to remember what had happened to him. His team—they were the ones who had saved him. He pressed his head back into the pillow and bit his lip, overcome with gratitude. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t made it—

“We’ll give him some space, men,” Hanai’s voice rings out. “Abe, get some rest, you know we’ll need you back soon. You’re an important part of our team.”

Through the haze of his confusion, guilt, and pain, he found it in him to laugh. He winced as it came out hoarsely, and struggled to say, “You know it.”

His team laughed and, with several kind pats to the arm and one rough hug from Mizutani, they filed out. His doctor, too, left quickly, and although Abe struggled to stay awake to see if one more person remained in the room, the one he yearned for the most, the space remained empty. He fell back into the pillow with a pit in his heart, and let sleep claim him.

What feels like seconds, minutes later, he startled awake. The room was barely lit, the windows to his side revealing that dusk was rapidly falling. Just as he was about to close his eyes once more, the noise that had startled him awake sounded again. Abe turned his head.

Mihashi was watching him with careful eyes, a devastating calm surrounding them that Abe had not felt before. He felt out of place, didn’t want Mihashi to ever be like this again. He missed him.

And yet, Abe’s heart yearned for Mihashi, even as it ached for making him this way. His golden eyes flashed in the dark, framed by ruffled curls. His mouth was set, determined, but still looked soft and inviting. Abe opened his own to speak, to apologize, to ask for Mihashi’s forgiveness, but that mouth flashed open and beat him to it.

“Y-You promised you wouldn’t get hurt.”

Abe reached his hand out into the darkness, found Mihashi returning the gesture. When their hands met, it was electric. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep my promise this time.”

Mihashi winced. “T-This time. There will be others?”

Abe couldn’t look away, as Mihashi’s face flashed with devastation. He forced himself to watch what he’d done to this man, who in such a short time he’d grown to care so deeply for.

“Mihashi,” he said, wincing as the rasp remained in his voice, knowing that Mihashi could hear it too. “I shouldn’t have made you that promise. My line of work is dangerous, and that’s not something I can change. If you… choose to be with me, there might be more moments like these.”

Abe’s chest constricted and he didn’t think it was from any injury. He looked away from Mihashi, staring at him so intently. “So… if that’s something you think you can’t handle, I guess we should…”

“Abe,” Mihashi’s voice, so strong and resolute. A hand in his, warm and sure, grounding him in the moment. “Y-You are so brave, and I-I’m not a brave person. But for you… I want to try.”

Abe looked back, met Mihashi’s eyes, so close to his own. He closed them as Mihashi leaned in, pressed their lips together. It felt like a beginning.

Mihashi pulled back with a stutter, and Abe realized that the other man was crying, frantically trying to wipe the tears away with his sleeve. Abe reached a hand up and cradled Mihashi’s face, thumb wiping absently at the tear tracks.

“Mihashi,” he said, slowly. “When I was in the building…”

Mihashi’s hand slipped around Abe’s wrist, holding it in place. His eyes burned golden in the looming darkness.

Abe swallowed tightly. “My last thought was of you.”

Another tear rolled over his thumb, and Abe absentmindedly stroked Mihashi’s cheek again.

“I do this for my family, for my team, and I know that I have a duty to make it back to them, but this time—” Abe shook his head. “This time it was all for you.”

Mihashi was leaning into him again, had found his way into Abe’s arms, and Abe wasn’t planning on letting go any time soon. “Mihashi,” he said once more into the darkness. “I will always come back to you.”

Epilogue

The kitchen doors of The Real Ace swing swiftly behind him, the rush gratifying. It feels like being welcomed home. The kitchen air is warm from the heat of the ovens, toiling away to pump out muffins, scones, cookies, bread—and more, more, more. After two years of dating Mihashi, Abe is learning, but even he can’t keep up with every new creation Mihashi churns out for his customers.

Mihashi is there, of course, head bent carefully as he ices a large cake, turning it gently on its wheel as he pipes. Abe had learned that Tajima was the one behind many of the decorations in the place, which explained a lot, honestly. Mihashi’s style was more subdued, and the way he worked at it appeared slow and dull—but his creations were some of the most surprising Abe had come across, and even ignorant as he was in these matters Abe knew they were works of beauty.

Mihashi has noticed him, and sends a warm smile his way. As he approaches, he notices that Mihashi has a dollop of whipped cream on his face and Abe snags it, Mihashi’s face flushing a brilliant red.

“A wedding cake?” He asks.

Mihashi nods. “Shinooka’s already expressed her interest in one just like it. I can’t imagine it will be long before Mizutani proposes.” He hesitates, face smoothing over, and Abe can see the gears turning a mile a minute.

“Ren—” He begins, and Mihashi turns to him.

“Well,” he starts, refusing to meet Abe’s eyes. “Does Takaya think—”

And _oh_ , isn’t that a lovely thought. Abe smiles, presses a kiss to Mihashi’s lips and feels him practically melt. Mihashi tastes like warmth, sweet as sugar, and Abe might be imagining it, but he can almost taste the flavors of that first _anpan_ that Mihashi had gifted him so long ago.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I definitely think.”

Mihashi’s face could light a forest fire, it burns so brightly, but Abe’s always known how to take the heat.


End file.
